


Break Shot

by SaphireCorona



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Bar, Cats, F/M, First Date, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Pool, Pool & Billiards, Smut, Swearing, Sweet Negan (Walking Dead), club, walkaway joe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:41:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26086621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaphireCorona/pseuds/SaphireCorona
Summary: Inspired by Walkaway Joe (and because I've got a thing for watching JDM play pool). Just a short, 3 chapter story because it became too long to be a one-shot! The first two chapters will be pre-apocalypse and the last one will be post-apocalypse.Callie unwillingly goes to a bar with her friends so they can find the perfect one night stand while she sits on the sidelines waiting to go home. Thankfully, she bumps into the hottest, leather jacket-wearing man around who shows her it's okay to have some fun.
Relationships: Negan (Walking Dead)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 14





	1. Nothing Better Than A Good Game of 8 Ball; Well, Maybe 9 Ball

**Author's Note:**

> A few disclaimers:  
> * I know NOTHING about pool so if I mess up any terms/rules, I apologize. I tried looking up how to play billiards but I probably still screwed some stuff up.  
> *I have been dabbling on this since Walkaway Joe came out so there might be some random discontinuities but I'm pretty sure I smoothed everything out. I mostly wanted to write this for funsies so it's not quite as in-depth as my other stories. 
> 
> Okay, anyway, I really wanted to write Negan in a slightly different light that is a little lighter and captures that thrill of first dates and shit. Because I like that kind of fuckery. That being said, the first chapter will be more fluff, the second more on the smut side and the third a little of both (but mostly the latter, cough, cough). 
> 
> Uhm, okay, yes, I think that's it. Carry on!

I winced as the song changed to some sort of deafening, cacophony of instruments that had no business playing with one another. The superfluous amount of neon gave me a headache. The soles of my heels kept sticking to the unkept flooring from all the sugary alcohol that had been spilled on it. There were too many people who kept bouncing into me, and I had been too anxious to even get another drink thanks to the stories my mother would tell me about women getting drugged and kidnapped. 

Suffice to say, I did not want to be here. 

Yet, here I was: sitting in a bustling night club that felt more like a bar with its random pool and foosball table that had been shirked to the outskirts of the room. My two friends had dragged me to this obnoxious place because the three of us were single, and I had been for quite some time, but they wanted to mingle while I just wanted to stay home and watch a documentary about cats with my cat. 

This was never a place I’d go to on my own volition, and I certainly would never wear whatever it was they forced me into. The cherry red, low cut blouse showed my every flaw and curve, but I was able to hide most of it with a black leather jacket, which was the same color as the skinny jeans I wore over my not so skinny legs. While I had wanted to wear flats so I wouldn’t break my ankle, I arrived here in heels that made me five foot four rather than five foot nothing. 

I had never been so uncomfortable in my life. 

Lauren, who was three cranberry vodkas deep, laughed raucously in my ear as she came from the dancefloor to the bar and leaned against my shoulder like a needy child. The straw in my manhattan swirled around the rim of its glass from the impact. “Callie, Callie, Callie,” giggling, she repeated my name over and over again like a parrot. I wondered when she’d get to the point. “You, you need to dance with us!” She pulled on my arm, but I stayed seated in the swiveling vinyl seat, knees locked together like a virgin. 

Her lipstick smeared lips pouted. “I’m watching our jackets,” I informed acidulously. She was too buzzed to pay any attention to my poor sportsmanship. Truly, though, they had left their jackets with me when they went to go dance with a few random men who hit on them the moment they made eye contact. 

She flipped her longspun, tawny curled hair to one shoulder and let out a sigh. “You don’t have to be such a mud in the stick all the time, Cal.” Much to my surprise, she didn’t go back to dance with Chloe and whoever else was with her. Instead, she stumbled onto the empty seat beside me. The dark sparkled eye makeup she had spent so much time on seemed to have faded from all the work she put into grinding against some blonde-haired wanna be football player. 

I chuckled, ever so slightly, at her misstep of words. “Sorry, being a mud in the stick is kinda my thing.” I took a sip of my whiskey through the narrow pink straw as I looked her over. I cared for my friends, even though we rarely saw eye to eye, but I had always been jealous of them. They were naturally beautiful. They could wear, say, and do anything they wanted. I always wished I could be as slim as they were, or turn heads when I walked in a room as they did. 

She scoffed, but I couldn’t hear it over the music. “You know what I meant, Callie!” Her voice had been raised by the ambiance and alcohol. I could only roll my eyes. “I just think you need to have some fun in your life!” Before I could stop her, she messily waved the bartender down for another drink. I’d have to pour her into the cab at the end of the night if she kept this up. What was I saying, she was probably planning on going home with someone. “You can’t become a cat crazy,” she caught herself, “crazy cat lady.” 

“I just have the one,” I reminded her. And at least my cat didn’t bring me to such awful places. 

One of the bartenders, a young busty woman, laughed condescendingly under her breath as she set another drink down in front of Lauren. She drank almost half of it before she continued. I couldn’t help but look a little horrified. "But you need a boyfriend! When was the last time you had sex?!" She more or less shouted her question to the entire bar, and I caught a few glances from some unseemly men that drifted our way when I looked over my shoulder. 

My cheeks flashed bright red, like a stoplight begging her to keep her inebriated yap shut. "Lauren!" I hissed her name, my hand gripping her forearm to tame her. Just because I had a three-year dry spell, I didn't need the entire world to know. Or was it four years? Ugh, it didn't matter! “Okay, fine, it’s been a while, but the whole damn city doesn’t need to hear about it!” I grumbled. If I didn’t want to leave before, I sure as hell did now. 

“Sorry, I’m just tryna help.” She shrugged, and her strap fell off her shoulder, which she didn’t bother to fix. I wanted to tell her she was gonna be falling out of her dress here in the next few minutes, but I knew she wouldn’t care. 

“Are you having fun?” I changed the subject as quickly as I could before she decided to say something else that would inevitably ruin what was left of my self-confidence. 

“Yes! Oh my God, I met the hottest guy, Cal! Look at him!” she pointed to one man in a sweat-stained grey button-up and overstyled auburn hair, but then switched to someone else with a buzz cut and steroid infused muscles that he displayed with a sleazy blue tank top. “Or, him, I meant him!” 

Neither of them were particularly attractive, and the way their hands wandered over every woman’s body they touched didn’t give me the impression they were looking for a monogamous relationship. But, my friends and I had never had the same taste when it came to the opposite sex. I preferred ingenuity and good conversation while all they cared about was how good they were in bed. 

I grimaced in reply, “Yeah, good find.” Uneasily, I pinched the straw of my drink in between my fingers and took another sip. God help me, I didn’t want to be here anymore, but I’d only been here an hour. I told myself I could stick it out for another thirty minutes before I hid myself away in my house again for the rest of the weekend. “Lauren, you don’t have to keep me company.” I didn’t want to sound like I was trying to get rid of her, but to be honest, I wanted nothing more than to be left alone right now. 

She didn’t need much more encouragement to leave and return to the various men that she couldn’t seem to keep straight. I watched her go and stumble into yet another guy on her way back to Chloe. He seemed just as pleased as her that they ran into each other, and I decided to focus my attention elsewhere after that. 

Sighing at my ceaseless seclusion, I rested my elbows up on the counter and started playing Sudoku on my phone until this nightmare finally came to an end. 

“You need a little company, sweetheart?” 

I swiveled the chair around to see a short, stocky man with a clean-cut haircut and a shorter, patchy beard on his pudgy face that glistened with sweat around his cheeks, and a deceptive smile that probably had seen an entire twelve pack of cheap beer throughout the night. 

I didn’t care for drunks hitting on me any more than I appreciated sober men looking to cop a feel. “No, thank you,” I replied politely as I could before turning back around to my phone. Nevertheless, he insisted upon occupying the seat behind me. I leaned my weight to one side to keep as much distance as I could from him. 

His hand reached towards me, but I jerked my arm away before he touched my already crawling skin. Of course, I got stuck with an erring, inimical town drunk while they get all the attention from the only halfway decent looking people in here. 

He didn’t seem put off by my cold shoulder. I chalked it up to liquid confidence. “How about a friendly conversation?” 

My tone grew a little more stringent, “No, thank you.” 

“Why not? It won’t kill ya.” He scowled, though I couldn’t imagine why he was surprised I wanted nothing to do with him. Who  _ would  _ say yes to this guy?

More than anything, I wanted to just get up and walk away, but I had the sinking feeling he’d just follow me. At least here I had the bartenders as a witness; if they were paying attention anyway. “Because I said no. I don’t need a reason,” I snapped.

“Come on, honey, just give me a chance. Someone as pretty as you shouldn’t be alone tonight.” His hand connected with my thigh, and I smacked his arm away.

“Get away from me, asshole.” I came close to kicking him in the shin when he tried to touch me again, but my efforts were stalled by another. 

“Sorry, darlin’, had to take that call.” The unexpected weight of an arm around my shoulder weighed me down, and I looked up to see who else was touching me, trepidation in my eyes. 

How much worse could this night possibly get?

An imposing man in a worn-out, cloud grey, cotton t-shirt pressed me against his side, his deep voice matching his roughened exterior, charming smile, and untrimmed beard. “Can I help you with somethin’?” I caught sight of his chestnut eyes before they looked to the man who couldn’t take no for an answer. 

He seemed dumbfounded as it took him a while to answer. “What, are you her boyfriend?” I didn’t know either of them from Adam, but at least the taller guy with his arm around me didn’t give me a nauseatingly nervous feeling. 

The fingers he had wrapped around my shoulder tightened their grip. “I’m the guy who’s gonna break your jaw if you don’t leave her the hell alone.” He took his next words up a notch with a calm but lethal threat. 

The drunk stood clumsily from the spinning barstool and tried once more to root out the truth. “I ain’t ever seen you with no one.” I didn’t let my confusion show, but it sounded like both of them were regulars here.  _ Great _ . 

He glared at that. “Because you’re too damn drunk to see straight. Now fuck off.” Muttering to himself, my drunken admirer ambled towards the front door as he reached for a smoke out of his back pocket, his steps swaying dramatically from left to right as he tried to keep himself balanced. When the door hit him on the way out, my auspicious knight in shining armor returned my personal space to me. “Sorry,” he undoubtedly apologized for his tactics, “that guy’s an asshole. Every night, he hits on every woman in here.” 

My eyes narrowed. “So you must be here every night then, too?” However, if he had been here as long as I had, I didn’t know how I didn’t notice him because now I couldn’t stop staring at him. 

He made a simple grey tee and dark jeans look like a black-tie affair. He was tall and lean and seemingly perfect upon first glance, what with his black tinged, somewhat messy hair and few week old beard that would have been the same color if not for the flecks of cinereal ash that mostly clung to his strong jawline. I never really went for the older, rough and tough, bearded type, but the way he carried himself...it was really working for me. 

In any case, his peppered beard did wonders for the dimples in his cheeks when he smiled. Hell, his eyes alone looked as good as chocolate cake soaked in coffee liquor and everything else divine that wasn’t good for me. 

“Guilty,” still facing me, he leaned his forearm against the bar with a smile that conveyed how much he enjoyed being called out. My eyes flickered to the faint line of his bicep peeking out from the fabric before I courteously returned the eye contact he gave me. “I just come here to play pool. These people are the shittiest players I’ve ever seen. That being said, I make a shit ton of money off of ‘em.” he chuckled quietly to himself, prideful. 

I didn’t know what to say to that so I simply nodded and replied, “Oh.”

His rugged, comely face fell in an awkward manner from my lack of reply. “Uh, can I get you a drink?” He tried to salvage his first impression with a cliche offer. I didn’t respond, but my lip twitched with the cousin of a frown. “You know what, you don’t strike me as a gal who drinks.” He stood straight and playfully clapped his hands together, his fingers pointed at me. “You want a soda or some water?”

I halted, my lips parted, primed to tell him to get lost and go join the drunk he chased away, but I hadn’t expected him to offer me something that wouldn’t increase his chances of getting whatever it was he wanted. “Yeah, sure, I’ll take some water.” His unusually pleasant grin appeared once more. I watched him lean over the bar and steal a clean glass to fill it with water from the tap. He must come here a lot to feel so comfortable doing whatever he wanted. “Thanks,” I replied when he handed it to me. 

He poured one for himself and took a long drink while I sipped meekly at the lukewarm water, avoiding his heated gaze. He didn’t exactly make me uncomfortable in the sense that he was some kind of creep. Rather, I felt that foreign nervousness that I typically had on a first date. 

It didn’t take him long to pick up on my lack of enthusiasm about being here. “I don’t mean to be rude but, this doesn’t seem like your kinda crowd.” 

I surprised myself when I laughed. He was rather perceptive. Maybe he wasn’t a perv looking for a one night stand. “Not particularly,” I confirmed. “My friends are desperately single and thought they would find their future husbands here,” my gaze gravitated towards them in the midst of a group of guys, unsurprisingly, “and I guess they thought I’d think the same.” 

He followed suit and joined me in watching Lauren and Chloe grind up against a couple of guys, who were different than the ones they had been dancing on earlier. I caught him making a wry face at the spectacle before he shook it off and returned to our conversation. “You don’t?” he asked it more as a joke than anything.

I shook my head. “The men here aren’t really marriage material,” when I realized I was more or less including him in my insult, I backtracked. I didn’t know the guy well enough to make an opinion. “No offense.” 

He grinned, his teeth a dazzling white. I couldn’t help but smile back in an apologetic fashion. “None taken,” he wavered, the now empty glass still in his hand as he rocked back on his heels. “Although, I think there might be a few guys here worth getting to know.” His provocative, side-eyed glance spiked my body with an acute fever. 

I took a drink of water to think of something smart to reply with. “You’re pretty transparently talking about yourself.” 

He shrugged, innocent as an angel. “Maybe. Guess you’ll have to find out.” He held his hand out, which had tattoos on his knuckles. I couldn’t help myself when I bit the inside of my lip. I’d always had a thing for men with tattoos; not that I’d ever been fortunate enough to meet one. “I’m Negan.” 

As much as I hated to admit it, he had me beat. The guy was smooth, I’d give him that. My attempts to get rid of him had been bested, and I figured he deserved to learn my name, at the very least. “Callie,” I sighed; amused, my hand getting lost in his. 

He reclaimed his hand with a wink. “You know how to play pool,  _ Callie-Allie?”  _ I’d been given that nickname every now and then throughout my life, but it never sounded quite as good as when he said it. 

Still, I had to remain resolute in not letting him drag me into a similar scenario that my friends were in. I had no issue making conversation with someone as engaging as him, but I had no intention of waking up tomorrow morning naked in this guy’s bed. 

“No, and I don’t have any money for you to hustle out of my pocket if that’s what you’re asking.” My reply was clipped with feigned indignation that he saw straight through.

“Let me teach ya, then.” he tilted his chin up ever so slightly as his tongue ran across his lower lip to make his smile picture-perfect. Internally, I groaned at how unfortunately attractive he was. 

He was rather captivating, too; a little  _ too _ much so.

Maybe he was a sex trafficker. Hollywood warned me about them being enthralling, attractive men. 

I narrowed my eyes in fleeting suspicion, which he met with a comically, perked brow that made me want to smile. Okay, he probably wasn't a sex trafficker. I was just being paranoid. 

“I have to watch the jackets,” I turned in my chair to point at the pile of gaudy, perfume laden coats. 

He snorted the air through his nose at my attempt to refuse him, knowing I was fighting a losing battle. “No one’s gonna take ‘em.” he started walking backwards towards the pool table that I wished he would’ve stayed at, his arms held out expectantly. “Come on, grace this incorrigible, unmarriageable man with your presence. It’ll be fun.” 

In actuality, I knew how to play pool, and I was rather good at it, but I figured it’d be better to pretend that I didn’t just to keep his hopes from getting too high. “Okay, fine, just...just one game.” Sighing, I grabbed my phone from the bar and hopped off my chair. He clapped and rubbed his hands together victoriously, and I rolled my eyes as I followed him to the billiards table.

One game wouldn’t hurt. 

Right?

When we reached our destination, he handed me a cue stick. As I grabbed it, I did my very best not to make contact with his hand, lest I get burned by his undeniable spark. Once he had that squared away, he started racking the scattered pools ball back up from his last game. I wondered who he had just finished swindling before he saved me from Mr. Handsy. 

He had been playing 9 ball as opposed to 8 ball, which is what I preferred, but I played dumb and asked my questions to throw him off the scent. “Why is it a diamond? Isn’t it usually a triangle?”

While I had expected some kind of condescending glance or patronizing man-splanation, he just nodded with a smile to show appreciation for my interest. “Yes, but this is nine-ball.” Once he had the balls placed to his liking, he lifted the rack and set it aside so he could grab his own cue stick. “What you wanna do is pocket the balls in order until you get to…”

“Nine,” I finished.

"Easy peasy," he shrugged in nonchalance. At least he didn’t seem to be the competitive, asshole type. "Just don't get the cue ball in a pocket, and don't let the cue stick hit anything but the cue ball." He kept the explanation of infractions simple, and I nodded in understanding so he could get on with it. “I’ll shoot first, then you can have a go.”

“Alrighty,” I gave him a lofty sigh and leaned against the pool stick that I planted on the ground. 

After giving me a smile that damn near knocked the wind out of me, he leaned down to aim. I forced myself to avert my eyes to the ceiling lights in hopes that I would blind myself and stop staring at him like a star-struck fool in way over her head. I wasn’t one for ogling, but his jeans clung to his hips in a rather pleasing manner. The way his shirt lifted up in the slightest when he shot didn’t help either. 

He got the first ball in the pocket with ease. Though he could have easily gotten the second, third, and probably fourth one in without a problem, he left the shot to me. 

Once I made it up to the table, I felt the oldest trick in the book coming on as he lingered behind me like a conspicuously helpful shadow. The man seemed to know his boundaries, but he exuded an uncanny amount of confidence at the same time. His mischievous smile only confirmed my suspicions, and I had to foil his plans before they got too far along. “Don’t use this as an excuse to get behind me and show me how to use this thing.” I gave him a dour look. 

I could see his perfidious smirk from behind the unfinished drink he picked up from the table’s edge. “I would never.”

Dubious, I went about my business and pondered the best approach. Once I decided on where I wanted to send the ball, I bent over the edge of the table, cue stick in hand. I could feel his gaze wandering the backside of my frame until he stopped at my waist. “Stop looking at my ass, please.” Still leaning over the table, I looked over my shoulder and he raised his hands in contrite surrender. He didn’t exactly look apologetic, though. Still, I couldn’t find it in myself to be upset. 

“Sorry, I ain’t never played with a girl before.” he bit down on his tongue when he smiled. 

I looked away from him and back to the table, unconvinced. “If you’re trying to impress me, you’re not gonna do it by lying.” 

“Darlin’,” he stated matter-of-factly, “I am a sucker for the truth. And, yes, while I am unwavering in my attempt to impress you, I intend on doing it honestly, because you are too damn smart to get anything past.” 

“Flattery won’t work, either.” 

“Should I just keep my mouth shut then?” he drawled a laugh that sounded better than any song I’d heard tonight. 

I lined the cue stick up, resting it against the inside of my thumb, “Yeah, I think that’d be good.” On purpose, I missed the first shot I took. 

He let out a sharp whistle. “Close. Give it another try. Let your shoulders relax a bit,” he encouraged.

I tried to look crestfallen when I faced him, my bottom lip in a pout. “Can you show me how again?”

He raised a brow at my demure plea for help in a way that said he found the notion mildly stirring. “Sure,” smiling, he pushed himself off the pillar he had been leaning against. He eyed the table thoughtfully as he waltzed to my side, his arm brushing against mine, which sent a wave of goosebumps over my skin.

Both the cue ball and the number two ball were in cumbersome, hard to reach places. I hoped he wouldn’t be able to hit them without one of them going in a pocket, or hitting the wrong ball. Clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth, he angled the stick until it was almost vertically parallel to his body. The look he gave me was meant to be taken as a challenge. I folded my arms over my chest, incredulous. 

When he tapped the cue ball, it ricocheted against number two and sent it careening into the rail before bouncing to the other side of the table and into the pocket he was aiming for; as perfect as a shot from a movie. I was good at billiards, but even on my best day, there was no way in hell I would’ve made that shot. 

I’d never seen anyone look so damn good while looking so smug. “Your turn,  _ Callie-Allie _ ,” he touted.

“Show off,” I muttered under my breath. But fine, if he wanted to play it that way then I could too. 

Though the unwavering attention he had for me made my hands a tad shaky, I had the three and four-ball off the table in less than a minute. Five proved to be tricky, but I still made it in one faultless shot before I moved onto six and seven. By eight, he had his arms crossed (which really accentuated how great his shoulders looked in his shirt), a sound of discontent parting his lips. 

After I pocketed the last ball, he sauntered up to me with a suspicious glance meant to toy with my sincerity. “You know,” he pointed a finger at me, and I playfully bit down on my lip as I looked up at him, a few inches between us, my pulse getting quicker by the millisecond, “something tells me you were lying about never playing pool.” He leaned back on his heels just enough so he could get a good look at me, his eyes making me want to spill every secret and sin I had in hopes he'd forgive me for playing him. 

Still, I had to push through whatever kind of devilry he was working on me. “Beginner’s luck,” smiling, I shrugged. 

I couldn’t find a trace of irritation or disapprobation in his expression. Instead, he appeared pleased to finally have a challenge. He chewed on his lip for a heartbeat and gave me an ambitious smile. “Alright, well then let’s rack ‘em up because I ain’t going easy on you this time.”

Laughing to myself, I watched him reset the table. He was older than me, I thought, but not so much older that it would be weird if I made out with him and  _ oh my God _ _ why did that thought just cross my mind?!  _

When he was done, he tapped his fingers against the cue stick as he clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth in contemplation. I took the time to try and discern the tattoos on his arm while he was preoccupied with trying to redeem himself. He had something written on the outside of his forearm and what looked like a revolver on the inside of the same arm. Somewhere below the sleeve of his shirt, he had another, maybe a cross, that kept peering out from the fabric. When he stepped a bit closer to me, I could see another one on his other arm, but it was too intricate for me to guess what it was without seeing all of it. 

I began to fantasize about what other pieces of art he had tattooed on his skin beneath his clothes; that’s when I had to force myself to stop gawking at him before I got into trouble. 

“So,” he started abruptly from across the table, his gaze shot up to me, trying to catch me in the act, “you got any roommates?”

So much for his lack of ill intentions. “Depends.”

“On?” he perked a brow and beamed. That look alone almost made me fall in love. 

“Why you’re asking,” I answered, my insolence making itself known. 

He shrugged and made the break shot. Impeccably, I might add. “I’m just trying to get to know you a little better, that’s all.” My focus flitted from the chaos he had created on the table to his congenial smile. There were a dozen other questions he could’ve asked to learn more about me, rather than how much of my time I spent alone in my bedroom. Be that as it may, he was so charismatic that I would’ve told him whatever he wanted to know. 

Still, I could’ve lied and said that I had one or two roommates who were always home, but I knew he’d know I was bending the truth. “I have a cat, and she doesn’t appreciate strange men wandering through my home, so don’t even think about asking if you can meet her as some poor attempt to get me alone.” 

“Shee-ot, you’re stealing my best lines.” He chuckled and took another drink as he walked towards me, where the cue ball had landed. “What’s her name?” When he handed me his glass so he could hit the ball, I reflexively took a drink from it as if one of my friends had offered for me to try it. It was straight whiskey, and strong at that. At least he had good taste. When he saw what I'd done, his shoulders shifted with a muted laugh. 

I faltered in my embarrassment. Her name was rather childish, but no one ever cared to ask so I never had to say it out loud. “...Mittens.” I looked down at the ground and tapped the end of the cue stick against the toe of my shoe a few times. 

His laugh lit up the smokey room. “Mittens,” he repeated jovially. “That’s fucking adorable. You should get another one and name it Earmuffs. Or Snow Pants.” I could tell he was trying to think of other accessory winter wear, but he came up short.

When I hit his arm, I noticed how aberrantly comfortable I felt around him. “Shut up!” I realized that my cheeks were beginning to hurt from smiling. That hadn't happened in a while. “That was her name when I adopted her!” 

He snickered at my defensive abuse. “You couldn’t’ve changed it?”

“No, it suits her.” I waved his teasing away as I mindlessly continued on with our conversation, “You’ll see what I mean.” 

The air between us shifted from friendly conversation to genitive tension nearly instantaneously. “Is  that so?” 

I may as well have traded the pool stick for a shovel, so I could start digging my own grave to jump into. It seems I couldn’t stick to my convictions for more than ten minutes. “Well, you know…” he tilted his head, the sweetest, most auspicious smile toying on his lips, watching me stumble and fall through my misspoken words. It stole the air out of the room. “I’ve got pictures of her on my phone.  _ That’s  _ what I meant.” I managed to recover from my fall, though, not gracefully.

“Uh-huh,” he gave me a quick once over, his lips parted just enough for me to see the tip of his tongue run along the ridge of his teeth as he pondered his next move. I really hoped he wasn't going to linger on the fact that I more or less insinuated that I wanted to take him home. It was true, but that didn't mean it had to happen. “Alright, well, get that phone out, then. Let me see this damn cat.”

He left me stunned. “Really? Okay, yeah, sure.” I pulled it out of my back pocket and searched through the various applications on my phone until I got to my file of cat pictures. His sigh was nothing but amusement as he stood behind me in observation. I looked up at him once I found a good batch of portraits and he smiled pleasantly.  _ Jeez, he's tall. Or I’m just short, even with heels.  _ “Alright, so this is her in the windowsill. It’s her favorite spot.” He chuckled and rested his hands on the ledge of the pool table on either side of me. His chest was flush against my back, but I couldn’t complain. Though, my racing heart was unaccustomed to the exercise. “Oh, and this is when I took her outside for the first time. I got this little leash thing at the store and she hated it so we never did  _ that _ again.” 

His voice was right next to my ear when he spoke up. “What the hell is that?” he gestured to the picture from Halloween. “Did you dress that poor cat up to look like a goddamn maid?” 

“It was Halloween! And it was on sale!” I defended myself against his flirtatious teasing, but then I sighed in disbelief at how ignorant I’d been about my loneliness. “Oh my god, I need a boyfriend.” I set my phone on the table and covered my face in humiliation. I loved my cat more than anything, but when I got to the point where I was sharing pictures of her with some random guy at a bar where guys go to pick up single women, I may have needed to reevaluate some things.

He hummed in agreement. “Well, to be fair, you proved me wrong. She does look like a mitten.” Smiling at his kind-hearted patience, I turned around and faced him, unbothered by his newfound proximity. 

I bit my lip. I couldn’t believe I was about to ask him, but I did, “Is that offer to buy me a drink still up for grabs?” After tonight, I needed one. 

He breathed a laugh and nodded, “What do you want?” 

“Something that will help me forget about how much I embarrassed myself.”

“Bottle of tequila, coming up.” He turned around to wave down one of the bartenders. “Hey Jason, get me a bottle of Patron!”

“No, no, no!” Laughing, I pulled on his arm to rein him in. He was strong and pleasantly warm to the touch. He looked down at me expectantly, cheerful, and amused. 

“Just get me an old fashioned or something. Please.” 

“Alright, alright, fine, I’ll be right back.” I let go of him, albeit a little reluctantly. 

“Thank you!” I called after him. He gave a lazy salute of acknowledgment as he walked away, and I suddenly lost every train of thought as I watched him wander up to the bar and lean against the counter. He was nice to look at, that was for sure. He must have felt me staring because he looked over his shoulder to find me with my teeth digging into my lip and a pining gaze. My face turned redder than a cherry and his wink made me groan. I promptly turned around and buried my face in my hands again. “Oh my god, I’m an idiot.” 

Moments later, the sound of two glasses clinking against the pool table forced my hands to fall to my side. “Alright, darlin’,” he gave my shoulders a shake to loosen me back up, “what d’ya say, wanna see if you can beat me again?” I breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn’t rubbing in the fact that I had been checking him out. 

“Yeah, why not?”

The ice in our drinks had melted and the pool sticks had been left at the table about halfway into the second game before we sat down in a booth. We had started on opposite sides, and I didn’t remember when I’d gotten so close to him or how long we’d been here. “So, this one tells how much money you’ll make,” I pressed the pad of my index finger along a random line on his calloused palm. “And this one is about your intellect.” He sat next to me with his arm around my shoulder so that I could hold his hand in mine as I pretended to know what I was doing. 

He played along very well, though. “Off the fucking charts, obviously.” I rolled my eyes and laughed. His other arm briefly trapped me against him when he pointed to another crease in his palm. “What about that one? Is that for how good looking I am?” He offered me a cheeky grin. 

“No,” I drawled, pulling his hand closer so I could see it better in the dim light, “I think that’s about how good of a cook you are.” My face scrunched up at my own lie and he laughed out loud. 

“You are so full of shit,” he called me out and grabbed my closest hand to take a shot at it. “Let me show you how it’s done.” I giggled when he moved my hand back and forth like he was trying to get a picture into focus. “What the hell am I even looking at?” 

I leaned into him even more than I already had been so I could point to the hand he kept out of my reach. “The lines!” 

“Alright, alright, alright,” we looked at my hand together, my head almost on his chest. “Okay, this one’s pretty long so that’s gotta be for your proclivity for hustling and lying.” he tilted his head towards me with a reprimanding look.

“Don’t be a sore loser. It’s not becoming of you.” I found my lips too close to his to speak in anything more than a whisper. I also found myself feeling incredibly sheepish and self-conscious. My heart resigned and my breathing became shakier. 

He gave a reassuring smile. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” He waited for a fraction of a second to watch for the slightest hesitation from before he kissed me. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched me the way he did, but I’d never felt so coveted. His hand cupped my cheek while his fingertips tugged at the hair at the nape of my neck. It made me shiver, even though I felt feverish from head to toe. 

I managed to catch my breath when he tugged on my lower lip with his teeth, but the second of air I was granted got taken away from me just as quickly when he kissed where his teeth had been, a little harsher this time. My trembling hand gripped the side of his shirt to keep myself upright but before I knew it, my fingers were closer to his skin, holding onto him, feeling his heart beating beneath me. 

“Hey, last call, you two,” someone drove a fist against the table we sat at and I jumped under his sultry touch. I’d just about forgotten where we were. He abruptly cut our kiss off and looked over to give an annoyed glare to the man who had made the drinks we never drank. 

A sound of vexation resided in the back of his throat. Being so close to him, it sounded like the growl of a bear. “Fuck, Jason, way to ruin the fucking moment.” He let his hand fall from my face and shifted his body towards the bartender that he seemed to know quite well. 

The man chuckled, “Sorry, couldn’t help myself. Can’t remember the last time any gal’s given you the time of day.” Negan rolled his eyes with a gruff sigh and handed Jason our unwanted glasses of liquor. “Oh, and, lady,” he stacked the glasses and looked at me before he took his leave, “your friends left all their jackets.” 

I let my head fall back in exasperation. “Of course, they left without me!” I’m sure they were both halfway through a one night stand by now which meant I’d been taking a taxi home by myself at one in the morning. It sounded like a bad, unsettling idea from beginning to end. I'd be lucky if I wasn't murdered. 

The dread I felt must have been tangible. “Hey, fuck their shit," he commented. "I can give you a ride if you want. Be a hell of a lot faster than trying to get a cab.” 

I deliberated for a moment. I didn’t want to put him out, but he seemed more than willing. Plus, I couldn't turn down more time with him. “Uhm, okay, sure, thanks.” At least I knew he’d be good conversation on the way home. 

He pulled his wallet out and left a fifty on the table before he grabbed both our jackets from the back of the booth. I thanked him when he handed mine to me and then when he offered me his hand when he stood up. 

While I kept mine folded over my arm, he shrugged the black leather of his own jacket over his shoulders, which somehow made him look even more attractive. 

God, he was  _ so _ out of my league. 

The air was still on the warmer side, but it had gotten just brisk enough to force me into my coat. And good thing too, because it wasn’t going to be a warm drive. 

I stopped a few steps behind him. “You got a bike?” Of course, he did. Why wouldn’t the hottest guy I’ve ever met have a bike? Fittingly, it was sleek, all black, and looked like it was worth more than my car. 

He grabbed the helmet and met me halfway. “Hell yeah. You ever ridden?”

“Uh, no.” Tonight, apparently, was an evening of firsts for me. I should’ve opted for calling a cab because it suddenly dawned on me that I would be rather up close and personal with him for the ride. 

“Well, lucky for you, you just gotta sit down and hold on.” he moved the hair out of my eyes before he fit his helmet over my head and buckled it below my chin. “I’ll do all the work.” I felt clumsy, but appreciated his help, even when he zipped my jacket up for me. 

For whatever reason, watching him get on his bike was a mesmerizing thing of beauty. I felt like if I tried to get on, however, I’d somehow manage to either injure or humiliate myself. Or break his bike. After he got settled, he waved me over, but when I didn’t move he grabbed my hand and pulled me towards him. “Come on, darlin’, you’ll be okay.” His chuckle was warmer than a crackling fire and I found it soothing. 

With the help of my mental pep talk, I shyly rested my hands on his shoulders so I could keep my balance as I stepped up and over the back of the bike behind him, careful not to disrupt anything. “You can put your feet there, just make sure you don’t burn yourself on the exhaust.” he pointed to the pegs to rest my heels against, then to the thing that would give me a first-degree scar. “And, most importantly,” he took hold of my wrist so he could help me wrap my arms around him. “You can sit a little closer. I ain’t gonna argue.” I felt more than happy to oblige. I scooted forward until you couldn’t even fit a piece of paper between us. His jacket smelled like cloves, and of course leather, but it still held onto the tobacco from the bar. 

“Where we headed? My place? Your place? Cheap hotel?” he teased me with a laugh, his eyes cast down as he watched his heel to flip the kickstand up. 

I hit his shoulder, though I'm not sure he even felt it. “My place!” Not that going home with him didn’t cross my mind. “Just at the end of Broadway, where it turns to a dirt road.” I hoped I didn’t sound too unappreciative or harsh. “Please and thank you,” I added as an afterthought. 

He chuckled again, “So polite.” he flipped a couple switches and shifted his weight to one foot as he used the other to slam down on the kickstart. I half jumped, half yelped again when the engine started beneath me. He checked on me after he regained his balance. “You good?” he had to borderline shout over the sound. I nodded, helplessly. His hand reached down to pat my hands supportively, which were locked in a death grip along his waist. “Wanna see how fast this baby goes?” 

“No! I’d like to live!” The trepidation I felt raised my voice enough for him to hear. His hand twisted the throttle and the bike lurched forward, causing me to let out a fearful sound that he laughed at when he stopped a few feet later. “You’re mean!” I hit him again, smiling nonetheless once I realized he was trying to get me worked up. “Asshole.” 

“Giving me pet names already? Shit. I’m in the big leagues now.” he looked over his shoulder at me with an exuberant smile. 

With a smirk and a roll of my eyes, I pushed his head forward, back towards the road. “Just take me home.” 

In a not so surprising move of chivalry, he walked me to my front door. Of course, in doing so, my jitters made their reprisal. He was disarming and blissfully natural in everything he did. Meanwhile, I forgot everything I knew when I looked at him. On any given day, I was never so unsure of myself; especially when it came to talking to men. Yet, I couldn't put my finger on how he managed to take the words right out of my mouth. 

“Thanks for the ride...and letting me beat you at pool.” Bunglingly, I punched him in the shoulder. Flirting had never my strong suit, but I gave it my best shot because much to my dismay, I quite liked him.

He grabbed my combative hand in his and pressed it to his lips before letting it fall to my side. “My pleasure, darlin’. I had fun.”

Just like that, my cheeks were on fire again. “Yeah, I did too.” 

When I didn’t make a move or try to keep the conversation going, he took care of the silence I carried with me. “So,” he tipped my chin up with his index finger, “you gonna let me take you out for a real date? Maybe Friday night?”

I blinked in surprise. I’d never actually been asked out on a date. It had always been something that was set up by a friend or coworker at a cheap restaurant or city park. “What?”

His eyes looked heavenly, like melted amber and cinnamon, in my porch light, and I couldn’t help but get a little entranced as he spoke. “I’ve got this sports banquet thing at work I’d love to show you off at. We could catch a movie afterward or grab some coffee?”

I wanted to jump for joy, but I kept a neutral facade. I didn't need him to know just how long it'd been since I'd been on a date. “Really? Yeah, sure, that’d be great.”

“Alright, I’ll pick you up at five." He chuckled, "I’ll bring my car this time.” The drive had made my hair a bit of a mess, but he tried to fix it by tucking a few strands back into place. 

Warm and pink as pomegranate tea, my cheeks showed just how flustered he made me feel. “Okay. Do you, uh, need my number?”

“More of a want, really.” After taking a step back, he handed me his phone and watched me fumble with it as I tried to find where I could put my phone number in. I just ended up sending a text to myself from his phone before I gave it back to him. As he slipped it back into his pocket, I twiddled my thumbs in vacillation. I knew he was about to leave. Was I supposed to kiss him? Invite him inside? Shake his hand? 

He had enough confidence for the both of us, however. “You know what else I want?” Conspicuously, his dark eyes drifted to my bottom lip, which my teeth were digging into out of anticipation. I nodded rather vehemently in hopes he had been thinking what I was hoping for. 

He stepped towards me again with his hands on either side of my face and ardently crashed his lips against mine. Instinctually, I stood on the tips of my toes so he wouldn’t have to lean down so much, which he seemed to appreciate as I felt one of his hands grip my waist before he pinned me against my door. He had every inch of me covered by his frame and every bit of my mind wiped clean by his kisses, which were tactful and provocative, even as his tongue brushed against my lips in an effort to get even closer than we already were. 

With my arm around his neck, I thought I was about to pass out from my inability to breathe or my hair-trigger heart, but it was a feeling I could get used to. When he finally broke away, my loud gasp made me flush with embarrassment. “So Friday, yeah?” he cleared his throat, somewhat restlessly, and stood up straight, his hands still on my body.

I rubbed my hand over my chest then against my neck to hide my raucous pulse. “Yeah, yep, Friday.” I reached for my house keys in my pocket, but my hands were shaking too much and I dropped them. “Shit.” 

He bent down to grab them for me, and I cursed the open air at how stupid I looked when he wasn’t looking. When he handed them back to me, he chuckled and gave me a kiss on my cheek, which was probably for the best as I most likely would’ve dragged him inside if he had continued on with whatever it was he had been doing. “I’ll call you, okay?”

I kept a firm grasp on my keys this time and smiled at the ground, “Okay.” 

* * *

What kind of vitriolic, capricious god would make someone so beautiful and perfect yet so untouchable!? Ugh. 


	2. I Am A Stand Up Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan lays on the charm for his first date with Callie. Let us pray that she survives his undeniable perfection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, thanks for your patience everyone!!! 
> 
> Okay, I know I said it was only going to be three chapters long but grad school is hard and consumes all my time so I kinda broke the middle chapter into two just so I could post something!! It's a little short but I tried to build a fuck ton of tension (and failed) where I could so that the next chapter will be better. 
> 
> I've got a few nods to some of my favorite JDM roles so if you notice any similarities, you're not going crazy!  
> There's probably some errors but I don't care because I'm exhausted so have fun!

A sing-song of a knock sang against my front door, and my heart dropped. I had been getting progressively more nervous all week. For most of today, I was sick to my stomach, but in a good way. 

He had called me the morning after he drove me home, just as he said he would, and nearly every day after that, along with a few texts sprinkled throughout the days while he was at the high school, where he worked as the gym teacher and baseball coach. I had never talked to any guy or person so much in my life. 

I loved it. 

As I walked to the door, I finished putting on my other earring, stumbling over a few cat toys that I ended up kicking out of sight before I answered.

When I opened my front door and greeted him, a longing sigh spoke for me.

With his hands in his pockets and almost taller than I remembered, he looked up from the ground and let his smile remind me of the mess I'd gotten myself in. He tipped his head towards me and pulled his charcoal wayfarer sunglasses down just enough so he could see in a better light. It made the air get caught in my throat. 

He had combed his dark hair with his hand and kept his peppered beard the same length as when I'd seen him last. “Goddamn, I do believe I’m a bit underdressed to be seen with you.” he lilted through a luring laugh, his tongue dancing across his bottom lip.

His grandeur was almost exasperating. I mean, how was he allowed to be that attractive?!

Out of the three somewhat nice looking dresses I owned, I chose a simple black dress that fit around my waist, and flared out a little after that, and had straps that were just thin enough to show my shoulders. It wasn’t very fancy looking, but I added a necklace to make it look like I knew how to dress for such occasions. 

“Oh, stop,” I argued. No matter what I wore, I wouldn’t be able to hold a candle to him. He had a black button-up on, but the first few buttons were left undone to show he wasn’t wearing anything beneath it. The sleeves were rolled up to let his various tattoos see the light of day. His jeans were just dark enough to be considered semi-formal, save for the oil smudges I could tell he had tried to wash out of the denim. To finish it off, he left the tail end of his tawny belt out from the loops in some kind of rebellious fashion. 

God, he was beautiful.

“You look very,” I couldn’t think of a word that wouldn’t make me sound like I wanted to take his clothes off, “handsome,” I settled. 

Where the hell did this guy come from? He was like a mythical Greek god. And how did I manage to get a date with him?!

“Thanks,” he grinned. “Sorry I’m early, but I missed ya. If you need a few more minutes, I can wait in the car.” His thumb pointed to the sporty vehicle he had parked on the curb by my mailbox. It was a sight I could grow accustomed to. 

I shook my head and waved him inside, “No, no, come in. I just gotta feed the cat and find my shoes.” I closed the door behind him and showed him to the living room. I almost asked him what kind of cologne he was wearing, but I replaced it with something less abrupt. I didn't need to sound like a stalker on our first date. “You want some water or anything?”

He wrapped a strong hand around my forearm and kissed my cheek before I got too far from him. “No, I’m good, thanks, darlin’.” Our phone calls never did his voice justice as it always muted the strangely warming gravelly inflection he spoke in. I also thoroughly enjoyed how it matched the roughness of his beard against my skin when he kissed me. 

I smiled, flustered but flattered by his amatory touch. “Okay, well, make yourself at home, I’ll just be a minute.” Somewhat awkwardly, I gestured to the couch on which I spent numerous nights watching bad romantic comedies and eating miniature pints of ice cream. He thanked me as I wandered towards the kitchen to take care of my beloved Mittens before hunting down a pair of shoes. I was thinking of opting for flats this time around. He was close to a full foot taller than me. A few inches from my heels weren’t going to make a difference. 

“Take your time. I ain't in a rush.” he let out a warm sigh as he sat down on my couch. I looked over my shoulder and saw how his long legs made it look incredibly small when he stretched them out. “Where’s your cat?” He called to me while I rummaged through the cabinet for her food. 

I found it humorous that he was asking about her, even if he may have been poking fun at me in the slightest. “She’s around. She’s just skittish.” My reply became muffled by my hopping as I tried to reach the can of food that had somehow gotten shoved to the back of the top shelf. Every time I got close to it, I only ended up pushing it back with my fingertips. Frustrated, I grumbled a silent complaint about my height or lack thereof.

I could have been self-sufficient and dragged a kitchen chair over, but I had a better and painfully handsome resource available to me at the moment. Sweetly, I requested his company. “Hey, you’re tall, can you come help me, please?” I pushed my hair back out of my face just in time to see him strolling in with a fiendish smirk on his comely face. 

“What can’t those short arms reach?” The low but rough chuckle that trailed after his words put the invigorating rush of a cold snap through my body. 

I couldn't let my thoughts stray from the task at hand. "Cat food," I pointed to the shelf I couldn’t see the top of. With a simple reach of his arm, he grabbed it and handed it to me after taking a look at the can to see what it said. He blanched as if he found the name of it unappetizing. "Tuna _and_ chicken? That doesn't sound right." 

I laughed, "Well, probably because you're not a cat." I thanked him and set it on the counter so I could take a few steps to the side and grab a plate from a much more accessible place. 

He retraced my steps while I opened the can and tipped its contents onto her dish. Even though I knew she wasn't about to show her face while he was here, I set her food down on the floor by the doorway.

When I turned around, I bumped into him, unaware of how close he'd gotten. A surprised squeak from my lips made him laugh. “You know, I can also open jars and kill spiders.” Unctuous and heartstopping, his hands rested on my waist to plead his case of just how useful he could be. 

Briefly, before I replied, I wondered if it was natural to feel like I needed a cold shower every time he touched me...and glanced at me...or breathed the same air as me. “Oh?" I humored him. "Well, I wish I would have known that. There was one in my shower last night.” I crossed my arms over my chest, with a simper, and looked up at him. 

With that in mind, I really could have used him in my shower yesterday evening. 

Wait, that didn’t come out right. 

“Lucky spider,” he mused, his voice a husky berceuse that made me weak in the knees. 

“You’re terrible.” I tried to retain my composure and not let out a needy whimper that tugged at my lips when he pulled me against him. Had I spent an embarrassing amount of time daydreaming about him touching me? Sure, of course, I did. But, oh my God, it was _so_ much better in person. 

“Mmm.” Without the slightest hesitation, he gathered my hair to one side of my neck so he could kiss my bare skin. Without thinking, I tilted my head to encourage him to continue; which he did, in earnest. I closed my eyes and exhaled a sharp but fluttering breath. There was something about how his beard scratched against the ephemeral marks he left on my neck as he made his way below my ear that could make a grown woman cry. 

I think he was going to make me have an existential crisis before the night was over. 

Just when I thought he was done tormenting me, he pushed the strap of my dress down my arm so he could let his kiss drift across my shoulder. “You were saying?” he whispered hotly in my ear, his fingertips skimming along my thigh, just below the hem of the dress. No one had touched me like this in years and I wasn't sure what to do with myself. 

I had to swallow my heart back down to its rightful place, and I struggled to remember what exactly I'd said to bring this on myself. “Maybe you’re not that bad.” Slower than molasses drips off a spoon and softer than silk, his hand began pulling the skirt of my dress up my leg. 

Tacitly, “Oh.” His other hand found its place against my cheek as he roughly kissed me on my open mouth. There was a calidity behind his lips that reminded me of cinnamon in hot coffee. It was addictive and had me begging for more. 

Inconveniently, the doorbell rang a few times, followed by an urgent knocking. I would’ve thought someone’s life was being threatened or a house was burning down had Lauren not made it apparent that it was her standing on my front porch. 

“Callie! I need to talk to you and drink your wine!”

“Sounds important,” he mumbled his insouciant comment against my mouth, his hand well beneath my dress and resting comfortably on the uppermost part of my thigh. I thought, for a moment, that he was going to let me go get the door. Instead, he forced me against the wall and ushered my leg up until my knee was notched on his hip. It made me blush, but only because it fit like a key in a lock. 

Nonetheless, I let my hand get lost in his hair as I kissed him back. “Not that important,” I rushed the words out before he stole them out of my mouth.He agreed with a sultry hum that he garnished with another moment of tormenting friction when he pitched his hips into mine. 

His belt buckle (among something more carnal that made me blush and stop breathing) dug into my once resilient willpower. “You feel that?” he whispered in my ear, but it was dismantled by the uptick in his once steady breathing. The way my hands migrated to the buttons on his shirt was my answer. We didn't _really_ need to go anywhere, right?

“Callie!” Lauren hadn’t taken a hint and left. She pounded on the door again. “Callie! I know you’re home! Your lights are on!” 

With a reluctant groan, he broke his lips away from mine and gently guided my leg back to solid ground. Sheepish, I fixed the collar of his shirt and flattened the wrinkles out against his chest. “I will be right back. Just...stay here.” Audacious as ever, he nodded in understanding. 

As I fixed my dress and turned to leave, he smacked my ass, earning a yelp from me. I looked over my shoulder to find him looking me over, his eyes delightfully dark, his teeth digging into his seductive smile. 

I suddenly felt like a doe who almost got trapped between a wolf's teeth. 

My mind flooded with things I shouldn’t be thinking of, I made it to the door before she beat it down. Every talking point, no matter how innocuous, was a matter of life and death with her. “Cal, oh my God, I’m so glad you’re home, I have got to tell you what happened to me at work!” Lauren waltzed through the entry without so much as a pause in her breathing. Her heels clicked against the hardwood, and her jeans were so tight that I could see the thread work of her thong. It made me all the more unhappy to see her.

She dropped her purse on the table I kept near the door and meandered into the living room as if she meant to sit down on my couch and divulge her day to me. “Did you get a new car or something? I thought you liked your old one.” Referring to Negan's car, (which I could never afford even if I wanted to) she spared me a fleeting glance, her lips painted a dark red, her hair a perfect cascade of blonde waves. 

I shook my head, “No, Lauren, look, I’m actually on my way out.” I fought to get my two cents in before she went for my cheap wine in the kitchen that she always drank. 

She met my rebuttal, her expression muddled with inscience as she looked me over. “You got dinner with your parents? What are you all dressed up for? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress before.” 

“No. Can I call you later, please?” I chased her through my home like a pent up mother chasing a toddler. I just wanted to get her out of her before she saw Negan or vice versa. I couldn’t exactly say that I wasn’t worried he would take one look at her and change his mind about who he wanted to take out for a date. 

She disregarded my pleas for solitude and continued on her way without a care in the world; straight into the kitchen. “It’ll just take a few minutes. I have to tell you what my boss did because he was totally hitting on me. And you know how much I want him to--” she stopped dead in her tracks when she reached the kitchen tile to see my date leaning against the counter, right where I had left him, looking like a tall drink of water in the middle of summer. “Fuck me.” The words dropped from her lips just as her jaw damn near dropped to the floor.

His face appeared halfway between concerned and amused while I covered mine with my hands. Why couldn’t I just have one weekend without my not so near and dear friends ruining my life?! “Callie, who is your very attractive friend?” The question was for me, but her eyes were all for him. 

“Hi, I’m Negan,” impassively polite, he introduced himself with a handshake like a civilized person; unlike some people. 

Meeting him midway, she replied, “Lauren.” She was standing a little too close to him and held onto his hand longer than I appreciated. I scowled at her. “So,” she twirled a lock of her hair around her finger like a scene from a poorly funded adult movie, “what cloud did you fall from, and when can I show you a good time?” For all the stops she was pulling out to try and seduce him, she might as well have been half-naked. 

“Lauren!” I practically shouted her name out of anger and offense. What the hell was wrong with her?! 

He huffed a laugh that sounded like disbelief. “Actually, Callie and I were just about to leave for dinner.” Looking to me, he pulled his car keys out of his pocket and juggled them in his hand as if he was trying to deter her with the noise. “You ready, darlin’?” he smiled breathlessly. Had he asked me that two minutes ago, I would have begged for us to stay here. Now that my head was clear, however, it was probably in my best moral interest for us to be in public. 

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” I stammered at his blunt ignorance of her. I was usually the one who got neglected. 

Her arm fell to her side, limp with disappointment now that the message had been received. “Oh, well, excuse me,” her tone became a bit snarky and acerbic. "I guess I'll call you later then." I didn’t say anything, still irritated by her insensitivity towards my romantic privacy, as she showed herself out. 

I ran my hand through my hair and sighed, “I’m sorry about that. My friends...well...I think I need new friends.” Bitterly, I laughed through my explanation. That concept had become more prevalent to me over the years. I just never bothered to do anything about it. 

Probably because they had never tried to steal my date out from under me before.

He gave me a reassuring smile and wrapped his hands around my shoulders. When he kissed my forehead as if we’d been together for months, it made me melt beyond repair. “You look beautiful.” I thanked him with a grateful smile. He didn't need to say that, but it was still nice to hear all the same. “Come on, let’s go before we get in trouble.” he guided me out of the kitchen with his hand behind my shoulder. 

Nodding, I returned the favor of a compliment, “You’re very charming, you know.” I’m quite sure he knew, however. 

He looked down at me from the corner of his eye, chuckling, “I can be; when I want to.”

“You mean when you want something?” I corrected, insinuating towards what he tried to instigate in the kitchen. If Lauren hadn't shown up, he probably would’ve had me stark naked on my dining table by now. I shook my head, ashamed of the prurient image my mind created.

He winked as he opened the front door for me, his thoughts still stuck in the kitchen with mine, “Or someone.” 

He had his arm stretched out behind my head along the back of the chair. His fingertips would occasionally drift over my bare shoulder as he moved his hand while he spoke. “You know, I made a cake once,” he stated with a comical amount of pride. 

On the subject of cake, we were sharing a slice together. To break up the repetitive stretch of speeches and accolades during the banquet, the school offered cake to everyone in attendance. 

I cut a small corner off and stabbed it with my fork, scraping the edge along the plate to gather some of the frosting before I ate it. “Oh, yeah?” I laughed. "Why just the once?"

"Didn't come out very well." Well, at least he wasn't perfect at _everything._ What a relief. 

"What kind of cake was it?" The fact that I even asked him that felt odd. He really didn't strike me as a baker, but his attempt made him all the more endearing. 

His hand moved to my face to brush the hair away that had fallen over my eyes, and he answered with a cheeky smile. "A box cake." 

I'd already lost count of how many times he'd made my cheeks display how many various shades of red they could paint in. I struggled to carry on with our conversation. “How do you mess up a box cake?"

"Believe it or not, I don't like following directions." That much was obvious. He was the least dressed up out of all his coworkers. He had let a handful of obscenities loose into his random conversations with the parents of the baseball team he coached. On top of that, I think he'd broken the unspoken social limit of public displays of affection within the first ten minutes of arriving. "And you're apparently not supposed to add four or five fucking cups of water to that shit." 

I suppressed my giggling. "I mean that's not the worst thing you could've done." I fear I liked him too much to make fun of his unwillingness to read a few instructions on a box. 

He shook his head, “I ain’t finished yet.” 

“Oh, God,” I groaned, embarrassed for him. This story about his baking excursions was getting worse and worse by the second. 

“I tried to fix it, right? It’s gotta be like pancake mix, you know? Add more flour if there's too much water kind of thing. So, I pour in a shit ton of flour until I’m able to put it in the fucking oven, and the damn thing actually cooks, but it tasted like shit.” 

Well, I couldn't knock his persistence. “Why didn’t you just throw it out?”

“Because I am a prideful son of a bitch,” he grinned, taking a forkful of an edible cake from my plate. 

I rolled my eyes at his indomitable ego. He wore it well, though. “Well, maybe one of these days I can show you how to make a cake from scratch like a normal person.” I gave him a teasing look that he mocked with his own. “Oh, you got some frosting on you.” I wiped my thumb over the vanilla sugar just below his bottom lip only for him to grab my hand and bite down on my thumb to lick it clean before anyone could see his salacious behavior. My face turned redder than the buttercream rose on our slice of cake, and his wink alone stole the air out of the room. 

“Thank you,” he used his leverage to pull me close and whisper against my mouth before giving me another heart-stopping kiss that didn’t last long enough.

I didn’t understand how he could be a complete gentleman one second, and then the man who might fuck me in in a school broom closet the next. 

I was gonna have whiplash by the end of the night. 

He kept an inch or so between our lips as he asked, “What are you doing tomorrow?”

I knitted my brows in confusion at his abrupt change of subject. “Nothing. Why?” 

“I wanna see you again.” 

Smiling, I leaned back just enough so I could see his hazel eyes, “Is that not what we’re doing right now?”

He ignored my question. “Let me make you dinner.”

“I don’t know if I trust you in the kitchen after that story,” I laughed, albeit nervously. This man gave me butterflies, shivers, thought-derailing-looks, and weak knees like none other. 

“Cooking I’m good at.” he bit his lip to conceal his self-assured grin. 

I hummed. “I’ll be the judge of that.” 

Bothered by the distance I created, he leaned a little closer. “Come over around noon?”

I never knew restraint until I had to keep from touching him every minute of every hour. “That’s a bit early for dinner, isn’t it?”

“Call it a need for some one-on-one time.” He kissed my bottom lip, his teeth grazing against the skin ever so slightly until I gave in. 

I breathed a helpless sigh against his mouth, “Okay.” I’d say he was overwhelming, but a better word would have been asphyxiating. 

Beneath the tablecloth, his hand was riding up my leg again, the tips of his fingers drifting towards the inside of my thigh. Then, he began to kiss me with a little more impatience as if he was looking for something. “You taste like frosting,” he commented, his words scorching my sensibility.

I murmured a noise to admonish his suggestive comment as I kissed him back, my eyes closed in revelry. Inappropriateness be damned, I was finding it _very_ hard to say no to him. 

Though he seemed as if he couldn’t care less about his professional image, he let his fingers slide back down to my knee; not that I felt any safer from his advances with them there. He chuckled when I let out a minute, sharp exhale of pent up sexual frustration. “I know. I’m terrible.” At last, he admitted it. 

I used the napkin to cover my lap, more importantly, the hand he had possessively painted against my bare skin. I knew the tablecloth already blocked the view, but it made me feel less like I needed a scarlet letter.

“You’re lucky you’re so attractive,” I muttered to him. Once he leaned back in his chair, I let my side rest against him, just to stay close. Even though I'd only known him for a week now, I felt an unusual sense of well-being by his side. 

He raised a brow and looked down at me with a knavish smile, just enough to let his dimples show. “Am I?” I rolled my eyes and hit his chest. Like he didn’t know how unduly covetable he was. 

Then, “Hey, Coach, you’re up,” some guy put his hand on Negan’s shoulders. I had been introduced to a majority of his coworkers, but I’d lost track of who was who after the first three. I think this man was the principal, though. I smirked inwardly. He certainly dressed like one with his grey slacks and blazer. 

“Right, thanks, I’ll be right there.” He took one last bite of cake and a drink of water before he wiped his mouth clean with a napkin that he rested over his empty plate. His hand squeezed my thigh as if to remind me he wasn’t done with me yet; God, help me. 

“I’ll be back, darlin’,” he kissed my temple as he stood up. I wished him luck, but the second he took his eyes off me, I drank all of my water, ice included, to cool myself down. If this is how he acted all the time, I didn’t know if I’d survive him. 

That being said, if I didn’t have sex with him soon, I’d probably have to jump in the Arctic Ocean for a semblance of relief. 

He got up to the podium and fixed the microphone to an angle better suited to his height. Quiet conversations continued on around of me but I was perfectly content admiring him from my set. First, he pulled out a scrap of paper that I assumed had his notes on it. Then, a pair of dark rimmed reading glasses that he slipped on, clearing his throat into the speakers to gain the room's attention. Somehow, he looked even more stirring in glasses. 

"How's everyone doing tonight?" His smile was stunning in the golden glow of the stagelight and everything about him was carefree and confident. He was made to be the center of attention. “This year’s banquet has got to be my favorite because not only do I have the prettiest girl I have ever seen as my date,” he looked directly at me and winked. A few of his female coworkers awed while a large portion of his team hollered sportively for him. Just like that, he was back to being a charming gentleman. “But, we also kicked some ass and won the state championships!” I chuckled as his team nearly deafened the room with their victorious cheers. I really wasn’t a sports person, but I’d be willing to change my mind for him.

Once they quieted themselves, he continued, “You guys worked hard this year. You did me proud. I wish I could give each one of you pains in my ass an award, but that shit is expensive, so I had to pick three, and you all can fight over it later.” His crass language seemed to make his team, and a majority of people, laugh, save for the more uptight parents who were sprinkled throughout the room. He didn’t care though, and I appreciated that about him. 

I watched with a smile, clapping along with him as he handed the first two awards to two young boys who came close to matching his height. It made me wonder what my date looked like back in his high school days. I propped my elbow up on the table and rested my chin in my hand as I pondered. He was probably the poster boy, prom king, heartthrob type. Being the teacher's pet, I never would have stood a chance. Just like at the bar, he must have felt my eyes craving his every move and he made a point to glance at me every few minutes to rekindle his sly smile. 

Without even having to so much as gesture for a moment of silence, everyone abruptly stopped their congratulatory noisemaking. There was something about him that commanded respect, even though he never asked for it. Maybe it was the way he stood or walked, with a cocksure swing of his shoulders. It could have been his smile, which reminded me of a candle in a dark room. Without it, his imposing demeanor left you feeling a little intimidated. But the second he let it show, he became a place of solace. Although...the smiles he reserved for me were still enervating in an erogenous kind of way. 

Realizing I was getting carried away again, I cleared my throat quietly to myself and did innocuous things like brush the hair out of my eyes to give the appearance of virtuousness. 

“Now, I think we all know who is getting MVP this year because this kid hit so many goddamn home runs that I lost count. ” His voice carried throughout the room as he looked towards the blonde-haired boy already standing from his chair. He must have been a senior, I presumed, judging by the feather-light beard he was trying to grow around his chin. “Ritchie, get your ass up here.” 

Once he got on the stage, Negan gave him a handshake followed by a heavy pat on the back that I could hear from where I sat. I hoped the boy's shoulder hadn't been dislocated. The trophy he received looked to be about half the MVP's height and though it was unwieldy to carry, he managed to hold it up in the air to corral the rest of the cheers to himself. I could see Negan roll his eyes from here as he stood behind the young man and clapped along with everyone else.

Once he managed to usher the boy off stage, he returned to the microphone for his parting words. Admittedly, I felt a spark of excitement to have him back at my side. “Lastly, this ain’t an award, but as you know, I am trying very, very hard to impress you.” His eyes found me in a heartbeat, and a cold rush of nervousness flooded my body. I watched in apprehension as he reached down to grab something from the inner shelf of the podium. When he stood straight, he had a striking bouquet of flowers in his hand.

Oh, no, no, no, no. 

He held them up in the spotlight, along with another lip-biting grin. “Callie, these are for you, my dear.” 

I didn’t move an inch. Maybe he had been joking, or I misheard him. There was no way this enigma of a man I just met was trying to lure me into the public eye with flowers. 

The longer I made him wait, the brighter and more victorious his smile became, unbothered in the slightest by the circumstances. One or two people nudged me out of my seat by shaking my shoulder or prodding me in the back. Knowing I couldn’t deny his request, I stood up on shaky feet and clumsily made my way up there, weaving in out chair and ignoring the sprightly looks I received. This romantic display of his was not as blissful as it looked in the movies! 

It took an insurmountable amount of focus to not trip or stumble as I traversed the stairs to where he was waiting for me. Dressed in black and suave blandishment, he offered me a spray of various reds, whites, and pinks. The flowers were beautiful, but God help me, his smile alone could put any and everything I ever thought to be perfect to shame. How he could look so ambrosial yet undeniably nefarious was a mystery to me. 

“Thank you,” I quietly accepted them with overwrought hands and a burning face that I wanted to bury in his chest but I should've known he wouldn't make my life easy. 

Before I could process what he was doing, he collected my flushed cheeks in his cool hands and gave me a nectar sweet kiss to help me forget about the crowd. The fingers that weren't holding the flowers wrapped themselves around his forearm in surprise but my reaction only made him smile and kiss me longer. 

"Yeah, Coach!" A few of his players timed their shouts together and I remembered how amusingly obnoxious high school boys could be. 

He chuckled and let me go so he could pull me into his side to shield me from the hoots and hollers of a team that was no doubt as boisterous as him. “Thank you, boys, and thank you, everyone, for coming. Have a good night!” The polite but enthused applause chased after him as he led us down the stage. I enjoyed having his arm wrapped around me all the while. It almost made up for his attempt to embarrass me; almost. 

He kissed the top of my head. "I got to grab some stuff from my office before we leave. Do you mind?”

* * *

Him in glasses is like...a fantasy inside a fantasy wrapped up in "kill me now because I can't handle how good he looks". 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, not my best work but it wasn't a complete waste of time, right??  
> I've got most of the next part written (just polishing off a few things [the sex parts, that's what I'm polishing off {because the overused idea of having sex in the coach's office must be PERFECT lol}]) but I've found that most of the free minutes of the day I get I spend crying over school lol so hopefully I'll have it out soon!!
> 
> Be safe everyone, and if you're in school as well, May the odds be ever in your favor lol


End file.
